Seasons and Eons
by Lady Grainne
Summary: The Witch Queen is dead. Society is healing and the occult underground is reeling. Chloe hoped for peace, but what if there was a new evil? One buried in the heart of powerful potentials? Including her.


_He did it again. Bloody hell, fuckin' cunt, he said he wouldn't do it again, but fuck all, he sure as hell did as he pleased like a right proper bastard-_

She stopped suddenly, as if concerned that he could hear her thoughts. _Wait, was that one of his tricks? Fuck me, it better not be…_ Chloe shoved off and stalked down the marbled corridor, fuming, her modestly heeled leather boots accenting the rhythm of her frustration. If the man  could read thoughts, maybe hers would cause him to spontaneously combust.

The long hall, lined with torches wreathed in dancing flames, seemed longer than usual, and it served to cool some of her temper. Perhaps she was overreacting. _It wasn't as if he, well, obviously. It would be stupid, I mean… He wouldn't ACTUALLY… Be realistic, ya silly git-_

The redheaded woman faltered at the great wood and wrought iron door, suddenly feeling a bit ridiculous. She considered turning back. He probably knew she was here though, since he always knew when she was nearby anymore.

The roughly forged, tangled patterns of metal before her vaguely resembled dragons and fire, and all manner of subtle shapes. Symbols most people 'above ground' wouldn't recognize littered the now familiar portal. Habit saw to it that she reached for the metal ring serving as the handle, gave a pull, and strode breezily into the room with slightly less gusto than she'd hoped to minutes before.

There he sat, still as stone, barely moving. Completely calm. At that, Chloe's eyes flashed a metallic, unearthly silver for just a moment as the fires relit in her chest and turned everything inside molten again.

"What did ya do to 'im, Kaulder, unh? What was it this time? Did yeh pull a knife on 'im, one o' them shiny, wicked ones yeh got with serrated edges, or maybe…" She was on a roll now, but he hadn't moved except to flip another page in a book several lifetimes older than Chloe herself. "Did yeh tell 'im you was my angry older brother, or did yeh jus'…." Her arms flailed dramatically, but she was running out of accusations. There was no hard proof the man had even meddled, though he'd never leave a trace if he did anyhow. She knew he couldn't have done anything overt, but he didn't have to. Didn't he know he was just… scary? For no reason? Even she'd been scared that first night in her bar.

Oh… Her bar… There was a sudden pang in her heart, and it threatened to strangle the last embers of her anger into useless dust. She'd only made it halfway into the room, towards him, and suddenly the witch felt like crying.

"I liked this one…" Chloe murmured, mostly to herself, defeated.

The movement was so slight, so easily missed. But his eyes lifted from the words he'd been reading on the page, and finally, he closed the tome. Slowly. So the years of dust wouldn't fly up into his face. That was his posture softening, and it gave Chloe some hope that perhaps he was in a good mood. Maybe he even felt bad for scaring off her newest boyfriend. If she could call the man that, after only two dates. Couldn't quite make it to a third, which was what made her so suspicious and on edge. She swallowed hard as he stood, and fortified her stance defensively. Still some fight in her.

Without speaking, and moving more quickly than he should be able, he was in her space. How he could do that while being somehow respectful was beyond her, but he managed it. The taller, broad, mountain of a man towered over her, peering into her very soul. God she hated when he did that. After his cursory inspection of who-the-fuck-knows-what, he leaned back just enough to give her some air and eyed her speculatively. Calm. Even. It was maddening. Her throat had long ago run dry.

"You haven't been in your potion stores, have you?" Kaulder rumbled in that low, easy voice of his. It sounded like thunder in the distance, and he never had to raise his voice to demonstrate the air of authority his presence commanded. The meaning of his question finally dawned on her, and she felt her face run hot.

"No! No, I haven't, ya-HEY!" Chloe screeched when the witch hunter's palm grasped her jaw, carefully turning her head side to side as if searching for any residue at the corners of her mouth. Without thinking, and feeling even more waspish than before, she swatted his hands away, and stepped back while her arms hugged protectively around herself. "I said, I 'aven't had nothin'." She ground out.

He crossed his own arms over his chest, and his head tilted to the side to let the beginnings of a scalp lock fan out on one side of his head. "Then why are you ranting and raving about silly things?" If she'd been paying more attention to the look that passed over his eyes just then, it would have been clear he was having a bit of fun poking at her. But instead, she was too busy throwing her arms back up in the air and lifting her voice a few octaves.

"Ooooh no, no no no, you don' get'ta act like it's all in me 'ead, Kaulder!" She took a brave step back towards him in defiance, though it was probably a dumb move. "I'll have yeh know, that I use'ta be pretty good with the lads before you came along! That there is direct correlation, and now I cannae find a date that will'n last the week before you feckin' scare 'im off with your outrageous muscles, an' I ain't had a romp in a year cuzza' you! I've…!" And that was it. It would have been like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on her, extinguishing her tirade, except that her neck on up to her ears and cheeks felt overly hot all of a sudden.

The quiet look of amusement on his face made her cross her arms tightly over her chest as she glowered at him. That was so much more than she'd meant to say, but to hell with it now. Chloe couldn't bring herself to do anything but seethe as silence stretched between them.

Finally.

"Are you done?"

"Shut up."


End file.
